Page 19 of His to Slash

Elwood's writing grew more frantic as he described the process of creating this new enforcer, their "perfect" killer. They had used the lessons learned from Grayson's transformation, molding this new creature into something even more terrifying.

"This one will be our savior," they said. "A force to keep the peace and uphold the order we have established." But I knew the truth. This enforcer was their insurance policy—a weapon to be used against their own creation should he ever step out of line.

I shuddered, envisioning the kind of being they had crafted. If Grayson was a force of nature, this new killer was a precision instrument designed for a single purpose: to eliminate any threat to the town's dark order.

As I watched their new creation take form, I knew we had succeeded. He was everything Hale wasn't—calculating, cold, and utterly devoid of compassion. A single glance from those hollow eyes sent shivers down my spine. In that moment, I understood the true extent of what we had done.

My stomach twisted. Elwood's fear was palpable, even through the pages. Whatever this new killer was, he wasn't meant to exist outside of the shadows. His very existence was a warning—a threat the town was willing to unleash.

I fear we have opened a door that can never be closed. With each creation, we invite more darkness into our midst. And should these enforcers ever turn their gaze upon us... God help us all.

I closed the journal, the weight of Elwood's words settling upon me. The town elders had played a dangerous game, and now, their desperate move to unleash the second killer made it clear just how high the stakes had become.

nineteen

I hurried backto the safety of my home, my heart still pounding from the revelations I'd uncovered. The heavy silence of the house enveloped me as I stepped inside, but I knew he was there. He always was. I’m beginning to think he’s like a house cat, always waiting for his favorite person to come home.

Before I could prepare myself, I felt the wall at my back, his body heat against me, and saw the rage in his eyes. His hands gripped my arms, fingers digging into my skin. He let out a low, animalistic growl, a warning that sent shivers down my spine.

This wasn't the usual anger I'd come to expect from him. This was something deeper, sharper. It was fear—fear of what I'd discovered, fear of what this second killer meant for both of us.

I felt a spark of defiance amidst my own mounting terror. "You're afraid," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me.

He didn't respond, but his eyes blazed with a mixture of emotions: anger, fear, and something else I couldn't quite name. His grip tightened, and for a moment, I thought he would hurt me. But instead, he pulled me closer, his face inches from mine, his breath warm on my face through the holes of his mask.

His eyes darkened, and his grip on my arms tightened. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, but it was tinged with something else—a possessiveness that horrified me.

His gaze fell to my abdomen, and his hand followed, gently cupping my lower stomach. He seemed almost hypnotized as he stared. A strange sensation coiled in my chest, a mix of fear and confusion. What was he thinking? Why was he looking at me like that, like there was something fragile beneath his palm?

I opened my mouth to ask, to voice the questions swirling in my mind, but before I could speak, he was tearing at my clothes, his eyes blazing with a primal, possessive hunger that left me breathless. I didn’t understand. What did he want from me? My heart hammered wildly as he yanked the fabric away, his touch rough and urgent. Whatever it was, the intensity in his gaze made my pulse quicken with a mixture of dread and something far darker.

“Stop, you’re hurting me!” I cried out as he ripped my shirt, aggravating the injuries that were still healing. But he didn’t stop. He was like a force of nature, unyielding and relentless. Panic surged as I tried to comprehend the sudden shift in him. I struggled against the onslaught of sensations—the rough scrape of fabric against my skin, the way his eyes never strayed from my stomach.

And then it hit me.

He wasn’t just looking at me—he wasfixated. His touch, his gaze… it all centered on one place. A cold chill crept up my spine as the pieces clicked together. My mouth went dry.

He wanted to claim me, to mark me in a way that went beyond flesh and bone. He wanted to keep me tied to him in the most permanent way possible.

My blood ran cold as the truth settled over me, a dark, terrifying revelation: He wanted to make me his—completely. To fill me. To make me bear his child.

I struggled against him, but it was no use. He was too strong.

"Please, Grayson, stop—" My words trailed off as I realized the futility of my protests. His eyes were fixed on me, intense and wild, and I knew he wasn't going to listen.

"Y-you can't," I stammered, my heart pounding. "I can't get pregnant. I have an implant." Even as I said the words, I knew they were a futile attempt to push him away, to create a barrier between us.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he froze. Then, with a growl, he pushed me back against the wall and pinned me there. I struggled against him, but it was like fighting a storm.

"No… more… hiding," he growled, his voice hoarse and strained. It was as if the words were being torn from his throat.

I watched, petrified, as he produced a knife and sliced it into my arm with deliberate, slow movements. He dug deep, his fingers probing, and then I felt the implant being ripped from my flesh.

It was a visceral, shocking moment. I felt violated, enraged, and scared all at once. I struggled against him, but it was no use. Grayson was determined to claim me completely, to erase any barrier between us.

As the implant was removed, I felt a dark thrill mixed with my fear. I was his now, completely and utterly. There was no escape, and a part of me—a part I hated—craved this possessiveness, this all-consuming obsession.

His eyes roamed hungrily over my exposed skin, and I felt the full weight of his desire. It was like being caught in the path of a hurricane, all-consuming and utterly devastating.

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